


Regrets

by anoceannothingfloatson



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoceannothingfloatson/pseuds/anoceannothingfloatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘In the aftermath of 3x08, Thomas is diagnosed with a terminal illness and a mixture of pride, stubbornness and not wanting to cause more trouble for everyone who has been so good to him makes him keep his silence. He loses weight and becomes more frail and gaunt and no one but Jimmy notices. But Jimmy keeps his silence because he does not want anyone to think of him like *that* in terms of Thomas. Then, one day Thomas is too ill to get out of bed and he reveals he is dying. Jimmy regrets.’ - Anonymous</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3x08

He doesn’t think too deeply about it.

 He’s too caught up in himself, stuck between feeling angry with Lord Grantham and Carson and pleased with his promotion, to even think about anyone else.

 He doesn’t have the time or care about Ivy’s pining or Alfred’s bad moods or the way that Carson stares at him as if he’s no better than the muck on the bottom of his shoes.

 He knows that this is his chance to work hard and properly secure his role as first footman and put all of that stuff with Mr Barrow behind him.

 He has to keep his distance from the older man because he can’t let anyone think he’s like  _that_.

 No, he’s not vile and he’s not wicked and his thoughts definitely don’t wander to what could have been.

 Definitely not.

 Because that would be disgusting and wrong and he’s not liked that.

 He’s not.

 And maybe he notices Mr Barrow looking more tired than usual but so what? It’s not his place to care about him, after everything he’s done, how close he had come to ruining Jimmy, and it’s easier for him, really, if he just pretends that Mr Barrow doesn’t exist.

 So he does.

 Alfred doesn’t talk to Mr Barrow, none of the downstairs staff do, not unless he has to and Jimmy feels justified in his actions.

 They all know what he’s done and what he is and, even though he has his Lordship’s support and a place at Downton, if only by the skin of his teeth, they make it clear he’s not welcome.

 It makes Jimmy feel sick but still terribly vindicated to see Mr Barrow sat in silence at mealtimes, ignoring and ignored by all those around him, and he’s strangely pleased because Mr Barrow is being punished for his wickedness like he should be and Jimmy is safe and no one thinks of him like  _that_.

 And weeks and months pass and Jimmy spends them concentrating on his work and keeping himself out of bother and he doesn’t look so he doesn’t see the signs that are screaming that something is horribly wrong.

 He doesn’t notice the way that Mr Barrow’s clothes start to hang off of him or that his skin is pale and waxy.

 He doesn’t notice the dark smudges under the older man’s eyes or the way his whole body trembles for days on end.

 He doesn’t notice that he doesn’t finish the majority of his meals or that he’s the first to retire to bed most nights.

 He doesn’t look so he doesn’t see.

 Christmas comes and goes and Jimmy finds that spark within himself that the business with Mr Barrow nearly extinguished.

 He talks sweet to Ivy and plays tricks on Alfred and does everything in his power to win Carson and Mrs Hughes over and he thinks that maybe he’s happy for the first time in years.

 Since the war.

 Since losing his mum and his dad.

 And it’s a good feeling, something he knows he deserves, and one that only grows when he starts to think of Downton as home.

 He’s happy and he thinks that nothing can change that.

 Not thoughts of the new chauffer or the other men he sees around Ripon on his half-days off.

 Not thoughts of Mr Barrow and  _that night_  and  _that kiss_.

 But then one February morning he is asked to fetch the under-butler when he does not appear at the breakfast table on time and what he sees makes his heart freeze.

 Because Thomas is stooped over his wash basin and there is blood on his lips and it’s flying from his mouth as his chest heaves and it mixes with the water and stains it red.

 And he can’t do or say anything but watch until Thomas turns to him with wide eyes and still bloody lips and pleads with him to keep his mouth shut.

 And all Jimmy can say is that Thomas is late for breakfast before disappearing from the room and trying to forget what he’s seen.

 He can’t.

 He stares at Thomas when he finally appears at breakfast and sees blood and sickness on his carefully blank face and wonders why nobody else can.

 Mr Carson berates him for being late as Mrs Hughes tuts and Mr Bates smirks and he doesn’t understand how they can all be so blind.

 Because Thomas is nothing of what he was.

 His skin is grey and his hair is dull and he is so painfully thin and no one seems to notice or care.

 He catches Miss O’Brien watching him with a sly look on her face and he reminds himself that he shouldn’t care either because this is punishment, isn’t it? For Thomas being the way his is.

 Jimmy tells himself that God is testing Thomas and he males himself believe that the older man will get better once he works passed the foulness of his soul.

 But time continues to pass and Thomas doesn’t get better and Jimmy begins to worry.

 He doesn’t speak to Thomas, though, because Miss O’Brien has been watching him like a hawk since _that_  morning and he can’t give her an excuse to drag his name through the mud.

 It hurts, though, because he can see Thomas withering away before his eyes and he wants to help him, wants to do something, but he’s frightened and he’s angry and he just doesn’t understand how they haven’t seen what he has.

 Mr Carson doesn’t listen to him when he finally works up the courage to go see him and he wants to scream because he’s not trying to get Thomas in trouble but to help him.

 Mrs Hughes is more receptive to what he has to say and she promises to speak to Thomas but Jimmy knows she doesn’t because just as he is about to leave her parlour Daisy comes running in, wide eyed and mouth spouting a mess of words that neither Jimmy nor Mrs Hughes understands, and they follow her to the servants’ hall.

 Mrs Patmore is shouting orders and Ivy and a couple of the maids are running around doing as she says while the rest of the staff are all staring at the figure sprawled on the floor and Jimmy knows without looking who it is.

 Mrs Hughes pushes her way through the crowd and barks at Alfred to send for the doctor and Jimmy can see Thomas shaking his head even as his eyes roll and his chest rattles.

 Then he begins to be sick and Jimmy sees people wrinkling their noses in disgust and turning away and he wants to shout at them because Thomas is desperately ill and they don’t seem to care.

 He doesn’t, though.

 Fear glues his mouth shut and keeps him rooted in his spot.

 He watches Mrs Hughes rub Thomas’ back and brush his hair from his face and listens as she shushes him when he gasps out apologies between what are now dry heaves.

 He doesn’t move when Thomas finally passes out and Mrs Hughes cradles his head in her lap.

 He doesn’t help when Mrs Patmore starts mopping up the bloody vomit with a cloth or when Alfred returns and rights a couple of upturned chairs.

 He doesn’t speak when Mr Carson strides into the room and demands to know what is happening or when Mrs Hughes asks for help to move Thomas to his room.

 He does nothing but stand and stare and wonder if he could have prevented this if he had spoken out earlier.

 It is only when Ivy starts to cry that he snaps out of his daze and he helps Alfred carry Thomas up the stairs and to his room but he isn’t allowed to stay.

 Mr Carson forces him to return to work and he does as he’s told because he doesn’t want to seem like too interested in Thomas.

 He can’t help but think of him through the rest of the day and he fishes for news whenever he returns to the kitchens.

 He doesn’t like what he hears but he knows there’s truth in it.

 Because he hears Lord Grantham ask, ‘how long?’ as he arrives in the library with tea for Lord Grantham and Dr Clarkson.

He sees the frown on Carson’s face as he stands just behind his Lordship’s chair and Jimmy tries not to drop the tray he is carrying when Dr Clarkson replies, ‘a day or two, perhaps.’

 And he doesn’t want to listen anymore when Lord Grantham asks, ‘is he in much pain?’

Carson catches his eye as he sets the tray down and he nods his permission for Jimmy to leave but he can’t escape quick enough not to hear, ‘no, I’ve given him something to help with that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he passed in his sleep.’

 Mrs Bates finds him crying on the back staircase and he clings to her when she pulls him close and for once he doesn’t care about what she or anyone else thinks.

 She is kind to him and waits until his face is dry and his breathing has returned to normal before walking with him back to the servants’ hall where he collapses into the chair next to Mr Bates and is given a cup of hot, sweet tea by a pale Mrs Patmore.

 Again there is conversation that he does not want to hear when Mr Bates asks, ‘has anybody sent word to his family?’

 ‘His dad is dead and he’s never spoken of his mother.’ Miss O’Brien snaps and Jimmy’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. ‘He doesn’t have any family save for a cousin in Bombay. Fat lot of good that’ll do.’

 ‘Still, I think one of us ought to write.’ Mrs Bates says and she pats Jimmy’s hand.

 And Jimmy can do nothing but sit and sip at his tea as words wash over him and a feeling he cannot name twists in his guts.

 His duties are light for the rest of the day as Lord and Lady Grantham allow the staff to pay their last respects and Jimmy finds himself growing furious as everyone pretends to care and be upset.

 They hadn’t cared before and he doesn’t understand why they’re pretending now.

 He wants to scream and shout at them for all being so fake and insincere in their sympathies.

 Because they hadn’t seen, they hadn’t cared enough to notice!

 Thomas had been ill for weeks and months and not one of them had said anything to him.

 Not one.

 And he spends hours with his fists clenched and his teeth gritted as the women cry and the men mutter false words about what a good chap Thomas was, when it came down to it, and how sad they were that they were never going to get the chance to really get to know him.

 The fury builds because he knows that it’s all lies.

 When it becomes too much he finds refuge in the pantry and tries to ignore the little voice in his head that tells him he’s a hypocrite.

 After dinner Lord and Lady Grantham as well as Mr Crawley go to say pay their respects and Jimmy stays behind with Alfred to clear up the table.

 He ignores the taller man when he asks if Jimmy has been to see Thomas yet.

 He doesn’t listen as Alfred goes on and on about his visit, what he had said and how Thomas had looked, because he doesn’t want to know.

 He just doesn’t.

 He doesn’t go to see Thomas once they’re finished but retires to his room and spends the night tossing and turning and trying to forget the look on Thomas’ face when he had pushed him away all those months ago.

 He tries to not to think of what could have been if he had been braver.

 He tries not to imagine the conversations they could have had if he had been stronger or the friendship they could have built if he had allowed himself to forgive and forget.

 And he tries hardest most of all not to think of how lonely and miserable Thomas’ last months must have been, being so poorly and so completely isolated from those around him.

 Had he wanted to reach out for help?

 Had he been too afraid to ask?

 Jimmy can’t help but think he’s to blame.

 If he hadn’t been so cruel…

 If he had just asked Thomas if he was okay…

 It’s early when he crawls out bed and dresses, lids heavy and his head aching, and makes his way to Thomas’ bedroom.

 He finds Mrs Hughes sat in a chair next to the bed and he is grateful for her presence, for making sure Thomas isn’t alone, and he returns her tired smile.

 ‘I was wondering when you were going to come.’ She says and he sees Thomas’ good hand being enveloped in both of her own. ‘But I’m afraid you’ve just missed him.’

 It’s then he notices the tear tracks on her face and he realises he’s too late.

 He is numb as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and feels no shame in brushing Thomas’ dark hair from his forehead and planting the briefest of kisses on his rapidly cooling lips.

 ‘I’m sorry.’ Is all he can say. ‘I’m sorry.’


End file.
